Nine
by Michaela pendragon Holmes
Summary: Nine Months, Follow Sherlock and molly through her pregnancy Sherlolly.
1. Daddy holmes

Disclaimer: I own nothing

Molly stood in the bathroom, staring down at the pregnancy test in her hand. She hadn't even considered the possibility that she was pregnant until she had missed a certain regular occurrence the previous week. The nausea of the past several mornings had become impossible to ignore, however, and so she had finally bought a proper test. Now she stood, trembling as she realized the connotation of the inconspicuous stick in her hand. Part of her was overjoyed, as she herself certainly wanted children, but her gut clenched with fear as she wondered how Sherlock would react. Despite having been happily married for over a year, Molly and Sherlock had never discussed having kids.

As the sweet, tender strains of violin music snuck under the bathroom door, Molly slumped against the wall. She drew a shaky breath, imagining the worst. She wondered if her temperamental husband would greet the prospect of a child, or regret it.

Worst of all, she feared that he would reject her and the baby as an impediment to his preferred lifestyle. Molly didn't know what to do, and certainly didn't know how to breach the subject with Sherlock, but she couldn't hide in the bathroom forever. The man who timed every action of each person he knew would get suspicious. As if on cue, the violin music ceased. Seconds later, Sherlock knocked on the door.

"Molly, are you alright?" His voice came muffled through the door.

Molly panicked, throwing the test towards the trash bin as she turned to the mirror to straighten her hair.

"Y-Yes, I'm just fine! I'm about to go out, actually," she said as she grabbed the sink handle, turning on the water to wash her shaking hands. When she opened the door, she was met by Sherlock's intense and unconvinced stare.

"Are you sure?" he said with concern.

Molly glanced at him, meeting his eyes for a mere instant before her gaze darted away. "Of course," she insisted as she stepped towards the kitchen, "Why wouldn't I be?"

Sherlock's stare followed her into the kitchen, but the rest of him stood unmoving before the bathroom door. When she disappeared from sight, his gaze shifted to the bathroom, instantly locking onto the small stick which Molly had unknowingly tossed just a few inches short of the trash bin. He walked in and picked up the test, staring at the minuscule but life-changing plus sign in shock. He froze in place, immobile as a statue as his brain buffered. Somewhere in his mind, he distantly heard the echo of Molly calling out that she was leaving for work and would be back later. The hands on the clock had moved quite a bit before he finally began to move again. When he did, it was as sudden and violent as though he had been shocked. He dashed into the main room to grab his phone.

 _John, I need you. -SH_

 _It's a matter of utmost urgency. Come at once, regardless of convenience. -SH_

 _What is it this time, Sherlock?_

 _No time to explain. Just come to 221B NOW. -SH_

 _Fine._

When John arrived, it was to find Sherlock pacing insatiably across the floor. The doctor sighed, and crossed the room to sit in his chair.

"Alright, Sherlock, I'm here," he said with an unmistakable impatience in his voice, "Now, are you going to tell me what's wrong, or are you going to keep trying to wear a trail into that poor old carpet."

Sherlock snapped out of his stupor, dropping down into his own chair.

"Molly is pregnant."

John's face broke from concern into a wide grin as he exclaimed, "Well that's great! Congratulations!" His face softened as he looked at his old friend, who sat in a defensive hunch.

"Are you not happy about that?"

Sherlock looked up to meet his eyes. "Of course I'm happy," he practically yelled, his voice then softening into a much gentler tone, "It's just that… I don't know how to be a father."

John sighed as he looked at the usually imperturbable Sherlock brought to such a desperate state.

"Have you talked to Molly, or did you figure this out through your usual annoying deductions?"

Sherlock nodded his head, too wrapped up in his thoughts to respond to John's quip, "I found her pregnancy test in the bathroom this morning."

"Sherlock, listen, she's probably just as afraid as you are," John replied, leaning forward in his chair and clasping his hands, "You need to talk to her about this."

The tall man jolted up from his slumped position. "She's afraid…?" His eyes hardened into their customarily determined look. "I need to bring her home _now_." With that, he sprang to his feet, and grabbed his coat as he took off towards the door.

John blinked as he took a moment to process his friend's sudden determination. "Sherlock, no!" He called as he quickly rose from his seat and moved to restrain the detective, "You need to let her do her work and calm down about this, and you need to do the same."

Sherlock paused as he considered the good doctor's advice, and saw its logic.. "Okay. I'll wait until she gets home."

"Good," said John, sighing in relief. Sherlock returned his coat to the hook and went back to his chair to sit down. An instant later, he was deep in his mind palace, far away from the reach of human contact.

"Right then," John said, mostly to himself, "I guess I'm no longer needed."

Grabbing his jacket, he went outside to hail a cab.

"Sherlock… first a husband and now a father," he chuckled quietly and smiled, imagining the many calls for assistance and advice that were to come.

Three hours later, Molly came home to find Sherlock still in his mind palace. She took a deep breath to steady herself, and walked over to place her hand on his shoulder.

"Sherlock, love?" she said, steeling herself for the conversation she had been dreading all day.

Sherlock snapped out of his mind palace, instantly rising from the chair to hug her tightly.

"Hello, my darling," he said, before doing the most unexpected thing possible. He dropped to his knees and kissed her belly, speaking to it in an uncharacteristically soft and gentle voice, "Hello, my little bee, I'm your daddy."

Molly stood in shock as she tried to process Sherlock's words. She wondered how he knew that she was pregnant, but then remembered that hiding secrets from Sherlock rarely worked for very long. Tears began to slide down Molly's cheeks as she choked on her words.

"You're not mad?" She asked, her eyes shining with joy.

In an instant, Sherlock was back on his feet. "Of course not," he said in surprise, "No, Molly, I'm so happy." He kissed her tenderly, tears in his eyes as well, "I'm so very happy."

Molly released a small laugh, all of her fear and apprehension melting away. She looked into Sherlock's face, which had erupted into a wide grin.

"I love you, Molly," Sherlock whispered.

"I love you, too," she whispered back, as they stared into eachother's eyes.

"A _baby,_ Molly!" he said as he let her go and jumped about the small room in ungraceful but exuberant spins. "A _BABY!_ I'm going to be a dad!"

Suddenly, he stopped short, and spun around to face her, panic building in the back of his widening eyes. "We have to baby-proof the entire flat!"

Molly chuckled, "Sherlock–"

He seemed to not hear her as he dashed around surveilling the room. "I'll convert 221C into a laboratory to keep the chemicals and body parts away from the baby."

"Sherlock!"

"I'm sure that Mrs. Hudson won't mind. Of course, you'll have to stay home for the remainder of your pregnancy–"

" _SHERLOCK!"_

"What? Yes? Are you alright?"

"Yes, Sherlock, I'm fine," Molly said exasperatedly, "but you're getting too far ahead of yourself. I'm only two weeks pregnant, and I have no intention to stop working until the third trimester!"

"Even at two weeks… I still think you should stay home with me," he said, his eyes full of stubborn concern and pleading.

"Ugh," Molly sighed, looking at his irrepressibly desperate face, "Fine. I will ask Mike if I can have shorter shifts, but I am NOT going to give up work completely this early."

Sherlock smiled in proud triumph as Molly rolled her eyes.

He took her hand and dragged her onto the sofa, gently lifting her feet onto the coffee table.

"Do you need anything?" Sherlock asked her as he paused beside her.  
"Maybe tea?" Molly replied as she visibly relaxed on the sofa.

Smiling, Sherlock nodded his head, "Okay, I'll put a kettle on."

A few minutes later, he emerged from the kitchen with two cups of tea. After dropping off one cup on the coffee table, and gently placing the other in Molly's hands, he walked to his desk and grabbed his computer. He carried it over to the sofa and sat down beside Molly. As she sat in a contemplative silence, savoring her tea, Sherlock typed and read with his eyes flying back and forth over the words on the page. After a few minutes, Sherlock began to speak with no warning.

"From week 1 to week 12 of your pregnancy, you will experience extreme fatigue, nausea with or without vomiting, cravings or distaste for certain foods, mood swings, headaches, and heartburn–"

"Sherlock," Molly interrupted, as he listed all the symptoms she was already experiencing, "I already know all of this, darling. I _am_ a doctor, you know."

Without even looking up from his laptop, Sherlock responded, "Yes, you are, Molly, but you primarily work with dead people."

He did look up, however, at the offended stiffening and glare of the rather hormonal medical examiner.

Just as the tension reached a pitch, an annoyed but merry voice rang out from the doorway.

"Oh, Sherlock, you'd best say you're sorry right away!"

The tactless detective spun his head around in surprise to see Mary Watson watching them with an expression of amusement.

"How long have you been standing there?" he asked in a bothered tone, momentarily forgetting his own affront in his annoyance over being caught off-guard.

"Long enough to know you messed up, you daft pillock!" she replied as she walked in and hugged Molly, who had stood to greet her. The two women shared an empathetic smile, and then Mary sat Molly down before turning to Sherlock to say, "Now say you're sorry, you twat!"

The normally unapologetic detective was on his knees in an instant before his wife.

"Molly, I'm so sorry," he said, with unmistakably genuine regret in his voice.

Looking at his usually stoic face, contorted by pathos and contrition, Molly couldn't help but burst into laughter. Mary soon joined her, while Sherlock looked on in confusion.

"What's so funny?" he asked indignantly.

Gasping for air between bursts of laughter, Molly managed to say, "She– She called you a 'daft pillock!'"

She doubled over again into more laughter than ever, clutching her stomach in the hilarity.

Sherlock sat back on his ankles, sulking as the two women laughed at his expense.

"It's not that funny," he muttered grumpily.

Molly took pity on him and suppressed her chortles as she took his face in her hands. "Sherlock, look at me," she said, his dark eyes obediently rising to meet hers, "Stop pouting."

"I am not pouting!" he replied in high dudgeon.

"Yes, you are," Molly insisted, her eyebrows rising in warning, "now stop it."

Sherlock's gaze shifted away and down, and Molly bent down to plant a gentle kiss on the tip of his nose. When she pulled away, his eyes were closed and his face wore a contented smile.

"That's better," Molly said.

Opening his eyes, Sherlock asked, "So you accept my apology?"

"Of course, Love," came the answer, accompanied by a tender kiss.

"Aww, you two are so cute together!" Mary cooed, making Molly jump, as she had nearly forgotten the other woman's presence. Sherlock, meanwhile, grumbled something about not being cute in the least, before muttering something only slightly more intelligible about tea and making a cuppa. As he rose and went into the kitchen, Molly began to quietly giggle again.

"Oh, no, Mary," she jokingly mocked, "I think you may have insulted his intellect!"

"Oh nooooo!" Mary replied, trying to muffle her laughter by stuffing a pillow into her face.

As her glittering eyes danced over the rim of the pillow, Molly regained her composure.

"Anyway, Mary… As you know, I'm pregnant, and, well," she smiled at her friend, "This baby will need godparents, and I think Sherlock will agree that there is no one else whom we would rather ask to be godparents than you and John.

"Yes, oh my word, yes!" Mary responded, the pillow back on her lap, and her eyes shining with emotion, "We'd be honored!"

"Thank you so much!" Molly replied, and the two women hugged, both of their eyes a bit wet with tears.

"Mary, let's call John to come over and celebrate," Molly said, receiving an agreeing nod in reply.

"Sherlock!" his wife called, as he promptly entered the room carrying a tea tray and four mugs, "John is–"

"I know," interrupted the preemptive detective, "Shall I order in?"

Molly nodded.

"Angelo's?" she asked, as she reclined on the sofa.

While Sherlock phoned Angelo's, Mary stepped into the stairwell to phone John. After he finished the order, Sherlock laid down on the sofa with Molly, resting his head on her lap.

"You okay?" he whispered.

"I'm fine, just tired is all," she replied as she ran her fingers through his messy hair. Sherlock closed his eyes and quietly hummed to himself, although the sound could be mistaken for purring. Molly smiled as she mentally compared him to a giant kitten.

Mary was still on the phone with John when she peeked her head back into the flat and saw them on the sofa.

"I know, he– John, I'm going to have to let you go. … Yes, everything's fine, I'll text you in a moment. Love you, too. Bye."

Mary hung up the phone, and took a picture of the contented couple on the couch. She texted the picture to John with the comment, " _let's celebrate on another date, and let Mummy and Daddy Holmes rest. They're going to need it."_

With that, Mary departed for her own husband and daughter, leaving the expecting couple sleeping on the couch.

A/N: I will be posting further chapters as they are finished


	2. Month 1

**[August]**

 **Four weeks into pregnancy,** **36 weeks until due date.**

"SHERLOCK?! What is this?!"

Molly had just woken up from her nap, only to be greeted with the sight of a giant heap of wood in the middle of the living room. Sherlock walked into the room.

"What's wrong?" He asked, before answering his own question, "Oh, that… right."

Molly gave him an intense glare, full of daggers.

The tall man glanced between her and the wood pile, seemingly searching for a good explanation.

"That's supposed to be a crib..." Sherlock struggled to explain, as his eyes shifted downwards, "But the damn thing won't...work."

Molly's expression softened as she realized what he was saying.

"You're building a cot?" she asked, her eyes full of happiness as she stared at the shapeless wood pieces in a new light.

Sherlock's eyes looked back at her as he responded,

"Yes, I am."

Tears came to Molly's eyes, and Sherlock shifted his weight, unsure of the meaning of her tears.

"What's wrong?" the detective asked as he crossed the room to be closer to her, "Did I do something wrong?"

"Oh, Sherlock," Molly cried, as she hugged him tightly. Sherlock returned her embrace, but was still confused.

"Molly, why are you sad?" he queried.

"No, no, Sherlock, these are happy tears," she said, pulling back from the hug to wipe the tears from her cheeks. "I'm so happy."

Molly smiled happily, and leaned up to give Sherlock a grateful kiss. Assured now that his efforts were not a cause of anguish, Sherlock gladly returned the kiss.

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A/N: I made these stories off pictures, so if you want the link please PM me because i can't put the link here for some reason :(

~MJS


	3. Month 2

**[September]**

 **Eight weeks in, 32 weeks until due date.**

Sherlock Holmes walked up the front steps of 221B Baker Street. After two days in Wales on a challenging case, he was glad to finally be home. However, from his perspective on the sidewalk, the ever-perceptive detective immediately noticed something off about his home. Although it was two o'clock in the afternoon, the curtains were closed, and the lights were off. Knowing Molly was home, his concern and curiosity was instantly piqued, as this seemed highly unusual.

He hurried up the steps into the flat, and walked into a room that was dark as night despite the sunny day outside. Sherlock turned on the kitchen light, and guided by its light, walked to bedroom.

"Hello?" he asked, as he entered the room. His greeting was met with a grunt, emanating from a big lump under the blankets of the bed.

"Ugh… light…" the lump grumbled.

"Molly, is that you?" Sherlock asked, moving closer to the bed.

"No," the lump replied, its voice dripping with sarcasm, "It's the boogie man."

Sherlock smiled as he climbed into the bed beside his wife.

"Molly..." he said coaxingly as he moved the blankets, only to find her curled in the fetal position.

"Nooo," she groaned, as she tried to pull the blanket back over her head. Sherlock frowned in concern, moving his body closer to hers in a supporting posture as he whispered,

"What's wrong, darling?"

"Massive headache," she mumbled in reply. Sherlock kissed her neck tenderly.

"I'm sorry, my darling."

Molly turned in his arms to face him, blinking painfully in the dim light that snuck in through the door. She was grateful to have him home safely after his absence. Molly had known what she was getting into when she married Sherlock, but she still worried about him each time he was away on a case.

"Hi," she whispered happily.

Sherlock's intense blue eyes gazed lovingly at her.

"Hi," he whispered back, shifting onto his back as Molly snuggled closer. "What do you need, darling?" he asked, echoing her words from years before.

"You," Molly replied, as she snuggled her head into his chest.

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A/N: If you want the picture for this story please PM me :)

~MJS


	4. Month 3

**[October]**

 **Twelve weeks in, Twenty-eight weeks until due date.**

Molly stood at the autopsy table, staring at the corpse before her as she struggled to keep her emotions in check. The body in question belonged to a Jane Doe, who at a mere eighteen years of age, had committed suicide. Though such cases were always saddening, the part which struck Molly the most was that the teen had been pregnant; three months along, and as such, a haunting parallel to Molly herself.

Molly was almost done with the autopsy, her back aching from standing so long, and her throat dully aching from a lump. Suddenly, Sherlock came bursting in through the morgue doors, shooting off orders.

"Molly?" he yelled, "I need samples from the Jetson case!" he demanded, but after a moment's consideration, added, "Please."

Though politeness and etiquette did not come naturally to him, Sherlock had been making a great effort on those fronts, remembering a strong lecture from John.

" _Sherlock,"_ he had said, " _Say please! You two are married, for goodness' sake!"_

Sherlock looked at Molly, who was standing with almost as much immobility as the body on the table before her.

"Molly, darling?" he asked, with more concern in his voice than impatience.

"Hmm… Oh!" she responded, snapping out of her stupor and moving to take off her gloves. "O–of course," she stuttered, walking away without even looking at her husband.

"Molly, are you alright?" Sherlock asked, assured that something was wrong, since Molly hadn't made a habit of stuttering since their engagement. She continued to evade his gaze, hastily grabbing files from the counter.

"Yes, of course I'm o–, okay," she said.

Sherlock walked closer, reaching out his hand to gently lift her chin.

"Molly, look at me," he insisted. She closed her eyes, but her eyelids' obscurance was in vain as a traitorous tear flowed down her cheek.

"Why are you crying?" Sherlock murmured softly.

"I–I'm not," Molly replied, though her voice betrayed her as she moved her head away.

Sherlock sighed as he brought her into a gentle but firm embrace, intent on giving her some form of support, even if she was unwilling to talk. As she felt his warm, strong arms surround her, Molly broke down, her silent and concealed tears increasing their flow as she quietly sobbed against Sherlock's chest.

"Shhhhh, it's okay, darling, I'm here, Sherlock said as he swayed back and forth, ever so gently. He hummed the tune of the Misty Mountains as his gentle sway turned into almost a dance, guiding them both to the office sofa where he sat Molly down beside him. He continued to hold her tight, and rock her gently as he whispered in her ear,

"Molly, my darling, what's wrong? Was it the autopsy?"

Molly nodded her head.

"She was three months pregnant… like me, and… she committed suicide because her boyfriend didn't want the child, and he rejected her and left her," Molly sobbed into Sherlock's shirt.

Sherlock petted her hair and kissed it tenderly.

"Molly, I love you," he said, with a gentle intensity, "and I will never leave or reject you, or our baby. You know that, don't you? … I promise that I will be here every step of the way."

Molly looked up at Sherlock, finally meeting his eyes, which she saw were full of pain on her behalf.

"Of course I know that," she said, her face melting into a consoled smile, "I know that you love me, and I love you, too." She reached a hand up to cradle Sherlock's cheek. Seeing so much emotion in his face and eyes was… terrifying.

"I'm sorry I overreacted," Molly said, her sobs of sorrow turning into painful half-sobs of laughter as she wiped the tears from her eyes. "Bloody hormones."

She brought her forehead up to meet Sherlock's, and they stood there in a long moment of silence before he calmly whispered,

"I suspect that your back is killing you as well, isn't it? Let's go home."

Molly opened her eyes.

"I can't," she replied, "I still have two more hours on my shift."

"Nope," Sherlock insisted, emphasizing the p, "You've taken a sick day, and you're coming home with me."

"But who wi–"

"Sanjay will take over," he interrupted. He rose from the sofa to collect Molly's things, before walking over to her and extending his hand.

"Come on, Love," he said tenderly, "Let's go home."

And so they did, spending the next two "sick" days in bed.

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A/N: If you would like the picture for this story please PM me :)

~MJS


	5. Month 4

A/N: Sorry for the late post. I hope you like this new addition, please leave a review!

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 **[November]**

 **Sixteen weeks in, twenty-four weeks till due date**

Molly and Sherlock Holmes were out on a date, and yes, you heard me right, an actual date. They were going to Molly's favorite café, Café de Flore. They walked down the London streets, dressed in warm clothing to insulate them against the cold November air. Though Sherlock looked much the same as ever, Molly was now visibly pregnant. The two were holding hands as they strolled, taking their time on the way to the café. Suddenly, Molly cried out in surprise.

"OH, MY WORD!" she yelled as she held her protruding belly.

Sherlock whipped around, startled by Molly's sudden outburst, and instantly calling to mind every complication likely to occur at this stage in a pregnancy.

"What?" he cried, "What's wrong, Molly?! Talk to me!" He spoke rapidly as he moved to stand before her, looking her over in concern. Molly stood with her hands on her belly, and an unreadable expression on her face.

"Sherlock, give me your hand," she said, plunging him further into confusion.

"My hand? Why? Molly, what's wro–" he stopped suddenly, as the hand which Molly had grabbed and placed on her belly felt a small impact, coming from the other side of her skin.

"Is that…" he said in awed disbelief.

"Yes." Molly nodded her head vigorously. Sherlock's face, which was frozen in a state of awe, broke into a smile when he felt the baby kick once again. Molly was close to tears as he knelt on the ground to bring his face closer to her pregnant belly.

"My little bee." he whispered, and seemingly received another excited kick in return. Tears streamed down Molly's cheeks openly now.

"Oh, Sherlock," she choked out.

He looked up at her, his face beaming with the joy of a kid on Christmas morning. He stood back up, one hand on her belly, and the other cradling her face.

"I love you," he whispered.

Molly smiled, happy tears flowing down her face.

"I love you, too," she responded.

Sherlock kissed her, and then led her into the café, keeping one hand on her belly all the while.

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A/N: If you want the picture for this story PM me:)


	6. Month 5

**[December]**

 **Month five 20 weeks till due date .20 weeks in**

Sherlock Holmes raced down the narrow London streets, weaving through crowds, and nearly disrupting traffic as he recklessly sprinted across roadways. Behind him lay a crime scene that had fascinated him, and pulled him out of the present moment. Although normally he detested every word and action from Anderson, today, he blessed the man. Without his interruption of the detective's consuming thoughts, Sherlock would have never realized in time how much time had passed. Sherlock raced towards St. Bart's Hospital, his determination and desperation to be on time driving his feet faster and faster.

He burst through the door of the hospital, sprinting to the desk in a blur of frantic speed.

"Molly Holmes?!" he shouted at the nurse, in a voice much too loud for the Hospital's quiet hallways.

"Room forty-five," the seasoned nurse replied. She had been a denizen of the prenatal ward's desk for long enough to know better than scold one of the expectant fathers when they were running late.

Sherlock sprinted down the hallway.

"Twenty six… thirty four… FORTY FIVE!" he said to himself as he wove around nurses and equipment in the hallway. He burst into the room, just as the nurse was about to lubricate Molly's belly with the gel.

"Sherlock?" Molly said with surprise and relief, "I didn't think you would make it! Lestrade called to say that you were working a case."

"I have not missed a single appointment this entire pregnancy," the tall man replied indignantly, "and I do not intend to start now!"

He crossed the room to stand by her side, smiling confidently.

"Oh, I see," molly replied irritably, "You don't want to break your important record."

Sherlock looked hurt as he gazed down at her.

"Of course not, darling, I promised that I'd be with you every step of the way, didn't I?" he asked, caressing her ruddy brown hair. "I'm not breaking that promise, because I _want_ to be here. I _want_ to be a part of every moment of our baby's life."

Molly sniffed back tears and silently cursed the hormones that were putting her into such an emotionally turbulent state.

"Gosh, I love you," she said with teary eyes.

Sherlock smiled reassuringly as he replied, "I love you, too," and bent down to kiss her.

"Okay, are you ready for the gel?" the nurse asked as the couple pulled away from the kiss.

Molly glanced at Sherlock for assurance, and then nodded to the nurse, her eyes sparkling with anticipation.

"Yes!" she said.

"Okay, the gel is a bit cold," the nurse warned.

Molly gasped a bit when it touched her skin, but gazed happily at Sherlock as he held her hand. After spreading the gel, the nurse brought up the ultrasound wand, moving it carefully back and forth as she searched for the unborn Holmes.

"There she is," the nurse said, pointing to the display screen. Sherlock subconsciously tightened his hold on mollys hand. "She?" His voice barely over a whisper. "That's correct" The nurse was preparing to take a photo of the ultrasound. "She" Sherlock whispered at Molly. Molly brought their intertwined hands up and kissed his knuckles.

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A/N: If you want the picture please PM me :)

~MJS


	7. Month 6

**[January]**

 **Twenty-four weeks in, sixteen weeks till due date.**

Now six weeks into her second trimester, Molly was beginning to be more fatigued. She was inclined to take more naps during the day, and Mike had given her fewer hours, allowing her to do paperwork at home. Sherlock might have had something to do with it, or rather, Mycroft might have had something to do with it. In any case, Molly had more time at home, and she often ended up napping.

One particular day, she had been lounging on the floor while reading a book. As she became drowsy, the words melded together, until the book slipped out of her grasp as she drifted off to sleep. She had been there for a while when Sherlock arrived home from examining a crime scene. He walked into the flat, taking off his belstaff and suit jacket.

"Molly?" he asked, expecting an answer but getting nothing. He did, however, hear the sound of a soft snoring. He walked quietly into the living room, finding his wife lying on her side, clearly far away in the land of dreams. Sherlock smiled, knowing better than to wake her after what had happened the last time. Instead, he grabbed a pillow, and gently lifted Molly's head to slide the pillow underneath. Then, he lied down next to her. His legs bent away near her head, and his head rested close to her pregnant belly.

"Nap," he whispered as he kissed her belly, and in moments, he too was asleep.

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A/N: If you want the picture for this story PM me:)

~MJS


	8. Month 7

**[February** **]**

 **Twenty-eight weeks in, twelve weeks till due date.**

Sherlock Holmes paced across John and Mary Watson's living room. It was the thirteenth of February, and he did not have any plans as to what he was going to do for Molly in honor of Valentine's Day.

"What do…" Sherlock paused, searching for the right word to use, " _normal_ people do on Valentine's Day?" he asked.

John considered his question for a moment before replying, "Well, I got–"

"Get something for the baby," Mary interrupted.

Sherlock looked at her in confusion.

"Why on earth would I get a present for the baby?" he asked, "She's not even born yet!"

Mary sighed, and tried to explain, "You get a present for the baby now, and give it to her when she's born. Believe me, Molly will be overjoyed that you got a present for the baby. It will show her how much you care."

"Molly knows how much I care!" Sherlock protested indignantly.

"Really?" John interjected, "How many times have you told her you love her in the past week?"

Sherlock was about to defend himself by saying "Plenty of times!" but stopped himself with his mouth open. He closed his jaw abruptly when he realized that he hadn't said the words "I love you" to Molly in well over a week.

"I've got to go," Sherlock announced, spinning on his heels and rushing to the door. As he threw his scarf around his neck before rushing out, he yelled, "and I have the perfect idea for a gift!"

A moment later, the detective was halfway down the street.

"What do you think it will be?" Mary asked John as they sat on the couch.

"Knowing Sherlock," John said, smiling at his wife, "It will probably be very… well, for the lack of a better word, Sherlockian," he said chuckling.

The next day, Mary received a text. A message said, " _Thank you! -Mxx"_ a picture arriving just after the text showed Billy the skull, sitting next to a smaller plush version of himself. Another picture showed a message embroidered across the back of the plush skull. In blood-red thread, it read, " _Daddy's Little Detective."_

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 **A/N: If you want the art for this one PM me! please R &R! **


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